Beautiful Lie
by Toringtino
Summary: Ichigo is about to find out that there is more than one way in which to tell a lie, and that, when used in the right context, it can be a truly beautiful experience. AU. Yaoi. GrimmIchi with side-helpings of ShuIchi and GrimmShiro.
1. Part One

**A/N: Story first, overdue explanations later.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Grimmjow or Ichigo, or anything Bleach related. Only my own twisted insanity - and even that's out on loan!**

**Hi-Ho, Silver~**

* * *

><p><strong><em>.:Beautiful Lie:.<em>**

_~Part One~_

There were times in life – sometimes too few and so far between – when one could let out a breathy, outdrawn sigh of true contentment. You know the times, when nothing is bearing down on you; no prior commitments, no work deadlines or assignments already a week overdue, those few fleeting hours where your mind is completely free to indulge in an activity you actually enjoy, where you can kick back with your feet up, a cold beer in one hand and your favourite book in the other. Only then would you ever hear that brief and oh so ethereal sound of pure satisfaction.

For twenty-two year old Architectural Engineering student Ichigo Kurosaki, the little hum of relaxation was so unexpected, and indeed vacant in his everyday life, it actually startled him somewhat to hear it pour so effortlessly from his own lips. Still, he supposed it wasn't entirely disconcerting, especially considering his current state of mind.

He guessed it around eight o'clock in the evening by now, though he hadn't bothered to check in quite a while, and was presently lounging on the three-man fabric sofa in his spacious two bedroom flat. Kitted out in dark grey sweats and a purple polo shirt, he was cosy and warm, his second glass of Pinot Grigio sitting within arms reach on the oak coffee table to his immediate left, neglected for the time being in favour of slightly more favourable actions, what with his left hand occupied holding a fairly worn-out copy of Tolkien's _Lord of the Rings_, and his right busy languidly scratching through the silky soft strands of the one currently applying a comfortable and thoroughly familiar pressure on his stomach.

There was a slight rumbling coming from said pressure, one that was lightly vibrating against the his abdominal muscles and causing a fond smile to tilt the corners of his mouth skyward. If Ichigo didn't know any better, he'd say that the noise was almost like a lazy purr. But alas, he knew better than to comment on as much out loud and hence decided to keep the opinion to himself.

All in all, it was safe to say that Ichigo was ridiculously tranquil right now, the harmonious and serene atmosphere that had settled down around him seemingly impenetrable as he turned the page of his book and let loose yet another contented sigh.

"Fuckin' hell, Kurosaki. Quit all your damn sighin' already, am tryin' to watch this."

Ichigo frowned down at the being sprawled out between his spread thighs, stilling his fingers from petting through the mane of electric teal tresses atop of the head nestled into his stomach. _Grimmjow freaking Jeagerjaques_. Well, if anyone was going to ruin the peaceful ambience settled down around them, it was bound to be him.

The twenty-three year old qualified mechanic, dressed in loose fitting green khakis and a light grey thermal, was horrifically loud in just about every aspect of his life, whether it was partying, fighting, fucking, or even attempting to belt out his favourite rock ballads in the shower. Also, rather unfortunately for every living being in the free world, he had absolutely no hint of a brain-to-mouth filter, so anything the older man was thinking, Ichigo – and every other poor sucker within a five mile radius – was bound to hear about it.

His one saving grace, if you could really call it that, was that the man was quite simply drop-dead _gorgeous_. With piercing orbs the colour of deep Caribbean waters, tousled teal locks constantly sporting that 'just out of bed' look, and a sinfully chiselled body that'd make any modern-day Adonis green with envy, Grimmjow definitely had the looks to back up his rather aggressively capricious nature – and boy did he ever know it.

"Well, it _was_ a happy sigh," Ichigo stated at long last, rolling his eyes in disdain at the shattered tranquillity. "But now that you've effectively ruined _that_ mood, you won't have to worry about hearing it again." Resuming his leisurely petting through the blunette's hair, he huffed when he realised what the older male was watching on their 50" plasma. "I don't see what you're getting so pissy about anyways; you're following the highlights of a game you watched, what, three hours ago?"

Scowling, the blunette tilted his head to lock crystalline blue eyes with the other. "Yeah, so? Yer readin' some book that ya've probably read, oh I dunno, like a hundred times over by now."

"'Some book'? Grimm, Lord of the Rings is one of the greatest novels of all time. It's sold like a hundred and fifty _million_ copies!"

"Whoop-de-fuckin'-do, Berry," Grimmjow deadpanned, turning his attention back to the flatscreen. "It could'a sold a billion copies, but that ain't ever gonna change the text on the inside. I don't get how ya don't bore yerself stupid readin' the same bullshit over an' over again…"

Ichigo shrugged, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I guess I just have the brain capacity to enjoy the grander things in life. I wouldn't expect a Neanderthal like you to understand."

A low rumble reverberated deep within Grimmjow's throat at the sarky insinuation that his intelligence was subpar, the action vibrating against Ichigo's stomach and causing him to squirm. Grimmjow paid this no mind, having found out quite some time ago just how ticklish the younger could be.

"Call me whatever the fuck ya like, Strawberry, but at least I know I'ma _manly_ man – which is a helluva lot more than can be said about you."

Grimmjow couldn't help the mirthful chuckle that poured from his lips when slender fingers fisted harshly in his hair, the body beneath him practically thrumming with rage. Fuck, it was so incredibly easy to rile up the fiery younger male it almost wasn't fun anymore.

_Almost_.

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ichigo groused, ochre eyes narrowed in contempt as he glared down at the snickering older male.

Carefully resting his near-empty bottle of Budweiser on the floor, Grimmjow reached one large, callused hand up to disentangle the peachy digits from his hair before propping himself up on his forearms, one resting on either side of Ichigo's slim hips so that he could better watch his reactions.

He and Ichigo had been the best of buds since their Junior High years, the rather unlikely bond forming during a minor scuffle wherein pride, honour, and outrageous hair colour had been called into question. Having had each other's back without even needing to ask, and silently admiring the other's physical duress, the budding seed of camaraderie had been firmly planted.

Forget that that little seed had blossomed into so much more for a certain blue haired male, that whenever Grimmjow got the chance to be alone with the younger he simply devoured every single detail of that beautiful being; those stunning ochre eyes always so open and warm, that head full of luminous orange spikes as soft to the touch as a kitten's fur, that long, lean body sculpted into athletic perfection and all neatly wrapped up in delicious peachy skin.

Yeah, forget all that. Because, with the vixenish Strawberry never available for consumption for longer than two fucking seconds, Grimmjow sure as hell had to.

Pushing all depressing thoughts of wanting what he couldn't possibly attain to the side, Grimmjow instead focused on the moment at hand, grinning devilishly at the sight of orange tinted eyebrows knitting together in obvious offence. When beautiful ochre orbs tightened, glittering a dangerous honey-gold, Grimmjow could feel his blood simmering in excitement. If there was one thing he loved about the orange haired male, it was that volatile temper of his. He was so goddamn quick to anger, and even quicker to cut loose and throw the first punch. Grimmjow positively adored that about him, and was constantly encouraging said behaviour through a series of timely antagonistic remarks, or a much needed physical shove when that didn't quite pan out.

"What it means is; _I_," Grimmjow jammed a thumb against his chest, "enjoy manly things – like soccer, and beer, and even the odd set'a melons if they're big enough. Whereas _you_," here he threw an accusatory finger in Ichigo's direction, "my dear Berry, have spent so much time on yer knees suckin' cock, ya've forgotten that ya have one of yer own."

Grimmjow barely had time enough to blink, let alone defend himself, before he suddenly got a face full of Tolkien's epic fantasy – and you better believe that sucker hurt. Ichigo had the Collector's Edition!

"You're such a dick, Grimm," Ichigo growled, his features twisting into a dark scowl even though he had thoroughly enjoyed assaulting the blunette. It always proved to be rather therapeutic.

Rubbing tentatively at his abused forehead and nose, Grimmjow returned the icy glare. "And yer a temperamental bitch, Kurosaki. Guess we've all got our follies."

Ichigo merely scoffed, putting up a hardback barrier between himself and the blunette. "Whatever, asshole. Just shut up and watch your stupid match."

Curling his lip at the blatant brush-off, and yet finding himself much too comfortable right now to kick up a fuss, Grimmjow begrudgingly complied, polishing off his beverage with an indignant "Tch" before settling his head back onto Ichigo's toned stomach, the beckoning warmth and alluring scent of which had him forgetting he was ever ticked off in the first place.

* * *

><p>The next half an hour or so passed in relative silence for the two young men, the only interruptions being the odd ream of expletives from Grimmjow toward the television when his team foolishly disregarded his incessant 'council', and the barely audible sound of printed pages turning during the rare moments it was actually quiet enough to hear such a thing. The whole "you don't own a functioning cock" debacle had been well and truly brushed aside in favour of a lazy evening with minimal conscious thought.<p>

Oh, yes. Order had been restored, and all was pleasantly calm and lethargic…

…until Ichigo started fidgeting.

Grimmjow, being one to irk at the touch of a button, could only take so much of his personal body pillow's constant, irritable twitching, before he invariably flipped his lid.

"Christ all fuckin' mighty, Kurosaki!" he snapped, giving Ichigo's side a harsh pinch in reprimand. "Ya got ants in yer pants or fuckin' what? Stop squirmin'!"

"Ow, bastard!" Ichigo growled, flicking the blunette hard right between the eyes in retaliation for the nip. "And maybe I could stop squirming if my foot hadn't gone dead, ya fat fuck!"

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes dangerously. His body was a fucking temple, thank you very much. "Muscle weighs more than fat, bitch. I can't help it if I'm a fuckin' stud."

Ichigo didn't even bother trying to hold back a derisive snort. "Yeah, right. Try 'ass', ya narcissistic jock." Giving a firm shove to the blunette's shoulder, he attempted to free his poor limb currently sandwiched between Grimmjow's side and the back of the couch. "Move it, fatty! Preferably _before_ you cut off the circulation completely!"

Grumbling under his breath, Grimmjow petulantly resisted, curling his arms around the small of Ichigo's back and burying his face against his abdomen. He was quite the happy camper given their rather intimate proximity, and he wasn't prepared to give that up just yet. Not without a fight! The orange haired youth was stubbornly persistent, though, and eventually Grimmjow had no choice but to concede. It was either that or risk a fucking concussion with the amount of blows he took to the head during Ichigo's relentless barrage and energetic struggling.

"Grahh, fine!" Grimmjow finally admitted defeat after a too-close-for-comfort call involving Ichigo's knee and his prized jewels. "Yer such a goddamn woman sometimes," he huffed as he extricated himself from the younger male, tetchily fixing his shirt as he stood up and glared down on the gleefully sprawling Berry. _The little shit_. "Yer lucky I got'a unleash the dragon, otherwise yer ass'd be grass, Kurosaki."

Ichigo chuckled at the empty threat as the blunette made for the bathroom, sighing contentedly as blood started flowing back into his still tingling foot. "Don't you mean salamander?" he called after the retreating Grimmjow.

"I heard that, fucker!" was the muted retort.

Ichigo gave an impish grin. "It wasn't supposed to be a secret!"

The sound of the bathroom door slamming shut was his only reply.

* * *

><p>In the bathroom, after having relieved himself, Grimmjow was somehow managing to smirk and frown at the same time. His emotions – and facial features, apparently – always seemed to be at odds with each other when it came to the fiery redhead. And, even after all these years, he still couldn't figure out whether or not that was a good thing.<p>

"Mouthy lil' punk-ass," he griped to his own reflection, glowering as he tried to smooth out the mussed-up look Ichigo had unconsciously created when playing with his hair. "Thinks he knows it all. God I'd love to put him in his place…"

The rather erotic mental image of Ichigo panting, flush-faced, and writhing in ecstasy sprang unbidden, though not entirely unwanted, into Grimmjow's mind. Sharp cerulean eyes bled slowly to a heady, midnight blue, his heart giving a spastic flutter against his ribs as the lewd vision seared itself into his brain. Gripping the edges of the porcelain sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white, Grimmjow clenched his jaw and hung his head.

It wasn't fair. Why did so many others get to experience Ichigo in ways that he could literally only dream about? Why was he always left dawdling on the sidelines; forever ensnared within the infuriating limbo that was the 'Friend Zone'?

Grimmjow knew he could make the hot-blooded redhead happy, and that he'd do a much fucking better job than all the fainthearted losers that had come before him. In spite of what he'd said earlier, he and Ichigo weren't always so contradictory, they did like _some_ of the same stuff. For instance, uh…classic rock, and um…spicy food! They even enjoyed the odd turn at a good old fashioned shoot 'em up on the PS3. And, as an added bonus, they got along for the most part. Sometimes. Kind of…

The point is; he _knows_ Ichigo. How to make him smile, laugh, cringe, blow his fucking fuse. Hell, he'd even made him cry a couple of times! Through laughter, of course, because honestly? For all his faults, Grimmjow just didn't have it in him to ever seriously hurt his Strawberry. Mentally _or_ physically. Sure they wouldn't be the textbook definition of 'perfect', but shit, Grimmjow genuinely couldn't think of a single motherfucker in existence he'd rather be with.

It just wasn't _fair_.

"God damn it! Why in the hell did I have to fall for that satsuma headed brat!" he demanded of himself, baring his teeth angrily when his reflection offered no explanation on the subject. Pushing away from the sink, Grimmjow rolled his shoulders, snorting at the image staring back at him. "_Keh_. Who the hell asked you anyway, coward?"

* * *

><p>When Grimmjow returned to the living room, Ichigo was just how he left him – a lard-ass dork reading his stupid fucking wizard book. Or goblins. Or elves… Fuck! Whatever the hell it was about! None of that shit mattered. All that was important was that Ichigo was one effin' sexy dork…<p>

_Damn it._

"Hey, Grimm…? Were you, ah, talking to yourself in there?"

Grimmjow faltered mid-step at the somewhat delicate question, before quickly righting himself and sneering at his friend. "What're you, high?" he groused as he slumped down onto the couch. "Shut the fuck up an' quit bein' so damn weird."

"Well _excuse me_…" Ichigo drawled, draping his legs over Grimmjow's thighs as soon as the man looked relaxed in his position. "At least this 'weirdo' doesn't have one-sided conversations with himself."

Lip twitching, Grimmjow snapped his head toward the younger. "Look, I already told ya I– Oi! What the fuck is that?"

Blinking at the abrupt change in subject, Ichigo cocked a slender brow. "Huh? What's what?"

"_That_," Grimmjow replied, pointing in the general vicinity of Ichigo's face. When the highly confused redhead merely raised his eyebrow higher, Grimmjow deadpanned. "In yer mouth, idiot. What're ya eatin'?"

"Oooh. Why didn't you just say that in the first place, moron?" Ichigo chastised, scowling quite typically. "It's gum."

As if to prove the authenticity of his words, he took a moment to blow a bright pink bubble, before popping it loudly and resuming his chewing. Grimmjow glared at the display.

"And you call me fat…" he quipped, holding out his hand expectantly. "Gimme a bit, ya greedy douchebag."

"Can't," was Ichigo's haughty response, a teasing smirk ghosting over pink lips as he playfully knocked the beseeching appendage away. "That was my last piece."

Grimmjow felt an agitated tick flaring up in his right eye as Ichigo blatantly baited him, that infernal bloody grin stretching wider and wider as he chewed noisily, the icing on the cake the constant _'pop, pop, pop'_ as he blew viscid bubble after viscid bubble.

Rumbling low in his throat, Grimmjow was surprisingly undeterred. He would never admit defeat, damn it! No matter the cost…

"Don't be a cunt, Kurosaki. Share."

Ichigo frowned. "I told you, Grimm, this is–"

"Yer last piece, yeah, I get it," Grimmjow interrupted with a dismissive wave. "I meant share what ya got there."

"You mean _this_?" Ichigo asked dumbfounded, indicating his working jaw. Grimmjow simply inclined his head in the affirmative. "Okay. Just to be absolutely clear, you are talking about the gum that's already in my mouth? The same piece I've been saturating with my own saliva for about, oh, five minutes now?"

Grimmjow furiously fought back a pleasurable shiver at the mention of Ichigo's saliva. Christ if he hadn't wondered what _that_ tasted like since fucking high school.

Swallowing thickly, he strived to seem as impassive as possible. "Yeah. What'sa matter, Kurosaki? Afraid you'll give me cooties?"

"What? No! It's just I… I mean it…" Ichigo could feel heat rising in his cheeks as he struggled to articulate himself. "It's so gross, Grimm!" he eventually snapped, his nose scrunching up in a grimace. "Why would you want something I've slobbered all over?"

Repressing yet another a shudder, Grimmjow opted to roll his eyes instead. "Oh grow up, ya fuckin' ponce. We've shared food loads'a times an' ya never threw a hissy fit before."

Blushing rather hotly now, Ichigo sputtered. "Y-Yeah – but that's different! It's not like we've ever, y'know…eaten directly out of each other's mouths…"

Not that Ichigo hadn't ever thought about such a thing before. Not necessarily the whole cuisine aspect of it, but rather what it would be like to kiss the sinfully handsome blunette. What? He's only human, for Christ's sake – give him a break!

"Don't be such a whiny baby, Ichigo," Grimmjow badgered, slowly angling his body toward the flustered redhead. "I'm only askin' for gum, not one'a yer damn kidneys! Now, hand it over."

Ichigo defiantly clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head in the negative as he backed away from the advancing blunette as much as the couch would allow. This did nothing but goad Grimmjow on.

"I ain't askin', brat," he stated, a certain gleam in those captivating cerulean eyes putting the younger male on edge. "Either spit it out willingly, or I'll _make_ ya cough it up. Dealer's choice…"

When Ichigo gave a bullheaded glare, wordlessly refusing to obey either option, Grimmjow couldn't help but smirk. So his little Berry wanted to play, ey? Heh. Game fucking _on_.

"Hardball it is then," Grimmjow practically purred, his blood humming excitedly at the prospect of the upcoming hunt.

Catching the feral, almost predatory aura suddenly emanating from the older male, Ichigo quickly sprang into action, only just managing to execute a basic tuck and roll manoeuvre before Grimmjow pounced. Landing with a not so graceful thud upon the wooden floor, Ichigo scrambled to find his footing, cursing himself to the depths of Hades and back again for bothering his arse to wear socks.

Grimmjow, noticing the younger's desperate attempt to find any sort of traction on their polished flooring, made a reach to grab him by the back of his sweats before he could make his getaway. But alas, his juicy Strawberry was a slippery little bugger and, after a minor tussle, he was off like a fucking whippet. Smirk tugging exponentially wider, Grimmjow leapt up from the couch, adrenaline pumping thick and hot through his veins whilst abnormally sharp canines glinted savagely under the lights.

Let the hunting commence!

* * *

><p><em>Aa<em>. This really was an overly awkward slash supremely intimate position to find oneself in with a man you have no romantic connection to…

Ichigo, cheeks dusted with pink and breathing ragged after the 'epic' chase around their apartment, presently found himself pinned to the wall by their front door, the blunette finally having seized him after a sneak attack when he'd made a break for the kitchen. With his back pressed flush against the papered drywall, his chest heaving against Grimmjow's with every breath, and his wrists held in a firm yet merciful grip by his head, he knew he wouldn't be making a bid for freedom any time in the foreseeable furture.

Truth be told, Grimmjow was in no better condition himself. In fact, he would go as far to say that he had it much worse. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead and neck due to his over-exertion, a balmy warmth cascading over his whole body making him feel altogether light-headed. Of course, it also didn't help that he had his body moulded so snugly against Ichigo's, that said male was panting and blushing and positively _radiating_ heat, that their faces were scant centimetres apart…

Swiping his tongue across his suddenly too dry lips, Grimmjow flashed an arrogant smirk to his cornered prey. "Well… Looks like I caught ya, Kurosaki."

Ichigo, avidly following the movement of that pink, moist muscle – before immediately catching himself on and snapping out of it – tried his best to sound nonchalant. He was pretty certain he failed, though.

"Yeah, only because you cheated, asshole."

"Don't be a sore loser," Grimmjow chuckled, senses on high alert and all too aware of every single area where his body brushed against the other. "It's not very becomin'."

Casually leaning forward, and reducing those scant centimetres to mere millimetres, Grimmjow couldn't help but feel an excited burst of carnal pleasure when Ichigo's breath hitched and ochre eyes widened.

"Now, to claim my victory…"

Panicking just a tad, Ichigo tried in vain to free his hands. "Grimm – wait! I-I… I don't have it!"

Pausing his advance momentarily, Grimmjow arched a blue-tinted brow. "Eh? Have what?"

"Uhh, the gum…?"

Grimmjow started. Fuck, that's right – the bubblegum. That's how this whole thing kicked off. Needless to say, Grimmjow honestly couldn't give two shits about that anymore. But still, got to keep up appearances…

"Well where is it, then?"

Ichigo hastily averted his gaze off toward the door, a furious hot pink pooling around his neck and into the tips of his ears. "I, um…kind'a swallowed it. Like, ten minutes ago…"

Oho? So the delectable Strawberry had kept up pretences even after the original object of desire was long gone? Heh. This little titbit of information made Grimmjow exceedingly happy – and suddenly very ravenous.

"Is that so?" he drawled, a wicked grin threatening to split his face in two. "How do I know yer not lyin' to me, ey? Y'know, holdin' out on the goods?"

Ichigo felt an involuntary groan bubble up his throat when the older male applied more pressure against his body along with his last word. Sheer willpower and determination alone saw it strangled before it could issue forth and make his current predicament any more compromising than it already was.

"I c-could show you," he offered, his voice entirely too breathy for his liking.

Grimmjow was becoming more and more turned on with every passing second. If Ichigo didn't stop acting so damn fuckable, and _soon_, then they were both in serious trouble.

"Mmm, that's not good enough, Ichi," Grimmjow purred, unable to control the surge of hormones currently dictating his actions. You can only push a guy so far, after all. "Ya could be hidin' it in there somewhere. I won't be satisfied until I check for myself…"

Ichigo pressed himself hard against the wall, his head colliding painfully with the solid surface in his efforts as the blunette drew closer still. His heart was completely spazzing out, his brain functionings threatening to short-circuit and his palms sweating – god help him, he didn't know what to do! On the one hand, Grimmjow was indeed a very attractive man; all rippling muscle, flawless tawny skin and bucket heaps of swagger – who wouldn't want to explore that? But on the other, vastly more logical hand, Ichigo was very, _very_ unavailable, and betrayal was just so incredibly wrong. It went against everything moral code he stood for!

Absolutely racked with indecision, and with Grimmjow's hungry eyes cutting through to his very core, Ichigo – and his damnably traitorous body – chose to leave it up to fate. At least in her hands he couldn't be held accountable for his actions…right?

Eyelids fluttering closed when the blunette's face drew too close to properly focus on without going cross-eyed, Ichigo let go of his morality, his ethics – _his very sanity_ – and simply gave in to the maddening pull of animalistic instinct.

Grimmjow couldn't quite believe it when he felt Ichigo's body draining of all previous tension, the boy becoming soft and plaint in his arms as he gently brushed their noses together. Was this it? Was Ichigo really giving up; giving _in_? Christ, he'd been dreaming about this day since the seventh grade. He couldn't rush this. He had to take his time and make this golden opportunity count. This was his chance to show Ichigo that they could work, that they could be happy together as so much more than poxy roommates.

Taking a brief moment to drink it all in, knowing it could be his one and only shot before Ichigo suddenly regained his senses, Grimmjow curled his arms possessively around the redhead, one draping across his shoulders and the other winding about his waist, as he buried his face in silky orange spikes and drowned himself in Ichigo's bewitching, citrusy scent.

Quietly brushing his rough lips over a warm, peachy cheek, Grimmjow felt a genuine smile grace his mouth at the soft breath Ichigo exhaled directly by his ear. Everything was perfect; the mood, the setting, Ichigo…

Nothing could ruin it now.

"Grimm…"

Absolutely nothing.

"Ichigo…"

Not a single thing.

* * *

><p>'<em>I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip his balls off with my bare hands, blend them into a fine paste, and shove it so far up his ass he'll hack up his innards. And then I'm gonna kill him some more. That interfering, cock-blocking, wank-stained cunt of a motherfucker…'<em>

These were some of the more articulate, and surprisingly less colourful, thoughts currently warring through Grimmjow's head.

The explanation for such a dramatic turn of events, as well as Grimmjow's unprecedented fury, could be summed up in one simple word; _Shūhei_. God, the name alone left a nasty acidic taste on the tip of Grimmjow's tongue, even when uttered within the confines of his own damn head.

Shūhei Hisagi was Ichigo's playboy boyfriend of the past eight months or so, and hence Grimmjow's mortal enemy. He couldn't stand the bastard. Not that stupid spiky head of raven hair, or his pretty-boy features, and especially not his 'I'm such a badass' attitude. Che. As if a few measly scars and a pathetic tattoo or two was enough to validate such a statement. Just who in the hell was he trying to impress with that ridiculous '69' tattoo inked right on his fucking face of all places? Damn he pissed Grimmjow off just by breathing. Even more so now that he'd interrupted the single most important, cataclysmic event that would surely ever happen in his life! There he'd been, ready to suck the very existence from Ichigo with a soul-searing kiss the likes of which would have had the Berry melting into his arms – and, good fortune permitting, his bed – when that brainless fucking moron had suddenly swept in unannounced and fucked everything up six ways from fucking Sunday!

As could only be expected, Ichigo damn near had a fucking cow when he heard the door being unlocked from the outside, shoving Grimmjow away from his person with the kind of strength the elder didn't even know he possessed. Stumbling back from the sheer force of the extraction, Grimmjow slammed into the opposite wall hard enough to lose his breath just as Shūhei had strolled in, the man all beaming smiles and candy-toned, "Honey, I'm home~!"

Turns out, as a glorious little _surprise_ for his vibrant haired lover, Shūhei had booked an earlier flight than originally anticipated from his two week vacation with the lads to Europe. Obviously he hadn't told Ichigo, hoping to be reunited with his precious 'Ichi' in splendiferous fanfare worthy of the climax to those sappy romance films.

Ugh. _What a fucking douche._

And now here they all sat, one big, dysfunctional fucking family. Ichigo was seated in Shūhei's lap on the black leather La-Z-Boy recliner, the two lovers catching up on lost time, whilst Grimmjow was left to stew in his own venomous rage on the couch he'd been blissfully lounging on with his Berry not an hour earlier.

Where was the justice?

"Everythin' okay over there, Jeagerjaques?" Shūhei suddenly inquired, his deep baritone instantly grating on Grimmjow's raw last nerve. "You're glaring at me harder than usual. I didn't interrupt somethin' when I came in, did I?"

'_Too fuckin' right ya did, asshat,'_ Grimmjow snarled internally. He refrained from saying as much out loud, however, not after catching sight of pleading ochre eyes silently beseeching him not to go off on one and accidentally reveal what had happened.

Sorry. What had _nearly_ happened.

"Don't be ridiculous, Romeo," Grimmjow replied, his voice thick with biting sarcasm. "I'm so fuckin' happy to see ya I could just shit."

Eyes the steely grey colour of an angry storm narrowed in Grimmjow's direction, clearly unimpressed with the blunette's sledgehammer wit – not that Grimmjow could possibly care any less. Even though he'd never breathed a single word to a any living soul of his passionate interest in the orange haired male, Grimmjow wasn't so naïve as to believe that it wasn't painfully obvious. To everyone except Ichigo, that is. That simple-minded boy wouldn't see his own goddamn hand coming until it smacked him square in the face. As such, Grimmjow would be willing to bet the big bucks that Shūhei knew all too well of his true intentions toward his lover, and henceforth their immediate and unyielding animosity toward one another.

"Well, as glad as I am to hear that," Shūhei began, a devious smirk tilting his lips in a way that promptly put Grimmjow on edge, "I hope you don't mind if I monopolise our little Ichi-kins here for the rest of the night, ne?"

"The hell?" Ichigo protested, glowering down at his raven haired lover from atop his fleshy perch. "Don't call me 'Ichi-kins', ya ballbag!"

Grimmjow grinned, genuinely elated that Ichigo had snapped at the older male. However, his temporary flux in emotion soon came crashing down alongside Shūhei's next words.

"Aw don't be like that, babe," he simpered, turning on the charm as he wrapped strong arms around the smaller's trim waist. "I've just missed ya, is all. That brute's had your undivided attention for a whole fortnight, and now it's my turn." Grimmjow had to physically turn away when Shūhei leaned up to place a heated kiss upon Ichigo's lips, his murderous intent fluctuating wildly. "C'mon, Ichi. Let's go get…_reacquainted_, hn?"

Grimmjow felt sick to his stomach at the salacious insinuation, sharp teeth gnawing at his bottom lip until he tasted copper on his tongue when he heard the leather from the recliner creaking as Ichigo and his bastarding beau stood up. Keeping his scathing gaze religiously downcast, Grimmjow could only wince when a slender, peach hued hand settled on his shoulder.

"G'night, Grimm," Ichigo said, his honeyed baritone airy and chockfull of an emotion the blunette didn't particularly _want_ to place. "I… I guess I'll see ya later."

"Sweet dreams, Jeagerjaques."

And with that, the couple was gone.

* * *

><p>Knocking on the varnished green door harder, Grimmjow audibly growled. His rapidly waning patience was so not in the mood to be kept waiting right now.<p>

As soon as Ichigo and Shūhei had retired for the night, Grimmjow had made a snap decision, and, after procuring his favourite leather jacket, got the fuck out of the apartment. Like fuck he was going to sit around all night listening to the amorous consolidation of the two lovebirds in the next room. Hearing his luscious Strawberry moaning out any name other than his own would only be such agonising torture – and he would know.

Seriously, what was Ichigo thinking? Didn't he know that Shūhei wasn't good enough for him? And no, that wasn't just Grimmjow's own biased prejudice speaking. Grimmjow knew this to be hard, stone-cold fact, knew with every fibre of his being that Shūhei was nothing but bad fucking news. How did he know, you might wonder? Simple. Because – although he absolutely _loathed_ to admit it – Shūhei and he were exactly the same. Feral, brash, unafraid of taking anything they wanted.

Shūhei was a predator through-and-through.

Fierce. Proud. _Hungry_.

_Just like Grimmjow._

Curling his hand into a fist, Grimmjow proceeded to pound at the apartment door in front of him instead, little flecks of paint shaking loose under the brutal punishment.

"Open the fuck up, dickwad!" he hollered, not caring a jot that the noise was loud enough to disturb the neighbours. "I know yer in there!"

"Hold yer fuckin' horses!" came the muffled reply from inside, a long series of bolts, chains and locks coming undone soon following before, _finally_, the blasted door was wrenched open. "I swear, someone'd better be dy–! Oh. It's jus' you."

Leaning against the side of the door, with a none too enthusiastic look upon his face, was the one and only Tsukishiro Kurosaki – Ichigo's slightly older twin brother.

Known simply as Shirosaki to friends and family, the young male stood an inch or two taller than his sibling, and was the polar opposite to Ichigo in nearly every conceivable way. With menacing orbs of molten gold glittering against a haunting obsidian backdrop, a head full of silvery locks sitting in a disarray of choppy spikes long enough to obscure his vision and brush along his shoulders, and a lithe figure encased in alabaster skin as smooth to the touch as polished marble, the man was like a demonic, bleached-out version of his younger brother.

Other than tempers more explosive than live dynamite, the Kurosaki twins had but one visible similarity; they were both unlawfully sexy.

Letting his eyes rove over the delectable little morsel, discreetly of course, Grimmjow gave a mental groan of approval. Shirosaki wore nothing but low-riding leather pants – that might as well have been painted on – and black nail varnish. His torso was completely bare, showcasing a nicely toned stomach, firm pectorals, and a lightly protruding collarbone. A snowy left eyebrow was adorned with two silver bars, the right corner of his bottom lip pierced with a black hoop, several earrings of varying luminous colours hugged each ear, a silver ring was skewered through his left nipple, and a belly-bar depicting a shining jade cannabis leaf was punctured through his navel. A silver cross hung loosely around his neck on a thin chain, the symbol coming to rest neatly between his pecs, and, although you couldn't tell just by looking, Grimmjow knew the little Snow White minx also had his tongue pierced.

Snapping himself from the hypnotic trance Shirosaki always managed to weave over him, Grimmjow completely bypassed any phoney pleasantries and barged his way into the humble abode with a mumble of, "'Bout fuckin' time, Snowbell."

"Oh please, do come on in, Grimmjaw. Make yerself at home," Shirosaki replied sardonically, rolling his eyes when it was clear the blunette was ignoring him as he slammed the door shut behind them.

Shirking his jacket, Grimmjow made his way into the small, sparsely furnished living room, the musty aroma of weed assaulting his nostrils and already irritating his eyes. That was hardly surprising, though, considering that Shirosaki was one of the biggest stoners he'd ever met. Had been ever since their middle school years. What _was_ surprising, however, was that they weren't as alone as he would have liked.

Orbs of liquid gold and shimmering amethyst swivelled in his direction upon entering the room, one set bleary and unfocused, quite indicative of being absolutely trashed, whilst the others were slitted and calculating. _'Probably at that insanely paranoid stage,'_ Grimmjow mused to himself.

Both occupants were slim figured, with fresh, youthful features and long, slender limbs. One had scruffy black hair, complete with braided ponytail, and the other a sleek raven bob. In spite of soft looking facial traits, the one with the braid was quite clearly male, as was highlighted with a black muscle shirt and ripped denim jeans. The other Grimmjow wasn't so sure about. 'Pretty' immediately sprang to mind, which didn't help matters. Couple that with a ridiculously long-sleeved zip-up overcoat and junk-constricting skinnies, Grimmjow knew they were either dealing with an overly feminine dude, or an unfortunately average female.

Paying no further heed to either, Grimmjow instead turned his attention to the snowy-skinned male shimmying past him.

"Lovely party, Casper. Pity I wasn't invited."

"Fuck up, retard. Like I'd ever invite yer loud-ass trap anywhere," Shirosaki snorted, throwing him a one fingered salute before addressing the two figures sprawled out on the floor. "Alrigh' ya fuckin' potheads, time ta get lost."

"What? Why the fuck for?" demanded the golden eyed male, slouching back further in the beanbag seat he'd commandeered. "We were just gettin' started."

"I agree," the androgynous one concurred, words slurring as he rose to his knees from his position between the others legs. "The night's still young, Shi-baby~ And I for one certainly wouldn't object to Big Blue here joining in the festivities."

Grimmjow reeled back slightly at the lascivious glint in the smaller male's lavender eyes, his lip curling in obvious distaste and perhaps a little offence. He liked his men as just that – _men_. He wouldn't ever waste his time on someone who couldn't even make up their mind as to which gender to assume. He liked a fight, a challenge; someone with a little _bite_. This young male simpering at his feet like some bitch in heat looked like he would physically brake if subjected to the kind of brutal treatment a lust fuelled Grimmjow could dish out. So yeah – no fucking thank you.

Catching the look of utter contempt and repulsion on his good friend's face, Shirosaki wisely chose to intervene before Grimmjow got blood stains on his carpet. Again.

"Back off, Luppi. He ain't interested."

With a full-lipped pout worthy of any young schoolgirl, the one dubbed Luppi sat back once more. "Spoilsport…"

"Trust me, kid," Grimmjow added with a carnivorous grin. "Ya wouldn't be able to handle what I've got to offer."

Amethyst eyes lit up. "Ooh really? Care to test that theory?"

Before Grimmjow could utter another word, Shirosaki quickly butt in. "Oi! Didn' I tell you two fucks ta get the hell out already? Get yer shit tagether an' scat. You too, Vega."

Luppi obediently staggered to his feet, an inebriated smile curling his mouth as he swayed precariously on the spot. The other male, however, obstinately refused, crossing thin arms across a narrow chest as he glared at Shirosaki. Growling low in his throat, Shirosaki stepped up to the silent threat.

"I wasn't askin', Ggio," he stated calmly, that echoic voice of his giving the words a viciously menacing edge. "I ain't got no problem physically removin' ya if I haf'ta. Wouldn't be the first time, either – an' you an' I both know how _tha'_ lil' fiasco panned out last time…"

Standing passively on the sidelines, Grimmjow was amused to witness a miniscule twinge of fear pass through the slightly more masculine Ggio's eyes, his jaw clenching and hands balling up on his knees. Grimmjow couldn't really blame him, though, knowing firsthand that Shirosaki's outward appearance was considerably deceiving. When it came to achieving his goals – and even more so when protecting his younger brother – the alabaster male could be a fucking maelstrom of destructive power. Grimmjow had seen the guy take down men at least three times his own body weight without breaking a sweat – hell, he'd even taken a knock or two himself over the years. He was tangible proof to Shirosaki's undisputable strength.

With an exaggerated huff, Ggio finally backed down, the small male baring pearly white teeth as he awkwardly freed himself from the beanbag.

"_Fine_," he bit out, throwing on a grungy green army jacket. "Have it your way, Shiro. But just remember, you owe me."

Shirosaki, now that the heavy atmosphere had subsided, gave a lazy wave of dismissal. "Yeah yeah, don' sweat it, Tiger. I'll hook ya up tomorrow."

This seemed to appease the youth somewhat as he nodded his consent, and, after seizing hold of the happily psychedelic Luppi's wrist, left the room. When the sound of the front door clicking shut resounded throughout the cosy apartment, Shirosaki let loose a weary sigh, scratching absently at his stomach as he turned to face his newest guest.

"So…" Grimmjow began, staring distractedly as black varnished nails raked over marbled skin. "Friends'a yers?"

Snapping his fingers a couple of times to regain the blunette's diverted attention, Shirosaki smirked when stunning pools of cerulean slowly trailed back up to his face. Though not before making several pitstops along the way.

"Naw, not really," he answered when he'd successfully attained the pervert's focus. "They mostly come round fer gear. Though tha's not ta say they don' have their uses."

Grimmjow arched a brow. "Fuck buddies? Really? They look like chicks…that Luppi character especially."

"I'll admit tha', independently, they're a pretty lousy lay. But together… Well, ya know wha' they say; strength in numbers." Shirosaki gave a flirty wink. "An' besides, ya know I like 'em all petite an' defenceless."

"Uh-huh..." Grimmjow droned, neatly folding his arms. "And that would make me…?"

"Ha!" Shirosaki barked, those alluring eyes brimming with mirth. "As if ya can trick me inta feedin' tha' monstrous ego'a yers, Kitten. Nice try, though."

"Oh, so that skinny fuck Vega is a man eating tiger, but I'm a pitiful little kitten? The hell! That's fuckin' favouritism!"

Shirosaki gave the seething older male a devious grin as he leisurely closed the distance between them, his golden eyes flashing wickedly as he fisted Grimmjow's thermal and pressed sensually up against him.

"Sorry, Grimm," he purred coyly, dark lashes fanning out over milky cheekbones. "I fergot ya much prefer _Pantera_, ne?"

Settling his large hands on Shirosaki's hips, Grimmjow bit back a growl. "Don't try me, Snowflake. I'm in a very ravishy mood right now."

Shirosaki chuckled, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips over the blunette's jaw. "Aa. Mah lil' Ichi-King provin' ta be too much of a temptation again?"

"Not quite," Grimmjow rumbled, pulling the younger flush against him. "Fucking _Prince Charming_ came home early…"

"Ah. Mr. Double-Fellatio?" Nipping harshly at the elder's throat, Shirosaki suddenly banished him from his person with a firm shove. "An' suddenly yer bein' here makes sense."

"Ack, shit. Don't be pissy, Shi," Grimmjow protested, his features set into a dark scowl. "Fuck knows I got plenty enough of _that_ for the both of us."

"I can imagine," Shirosaki muttered, the eye roll implied in his tone. "Yer pathetic, Grimmjaw, ya know tha'? Pinin' over someone ya can't have, then seekin' solace in the next best thing when it's rubbed in yer face. Che. Yer lucky yer such a fantastic fuck, otherwise there's no way I'd ever put up with even half a'yer shit."

"Hey," Grimmjow snarled, his previous anger and frustrations suddenly redirecting their focus. "Cut that shit out. It's complicated, an' you know it."

"Oh cry me a fuckin' river," Shirosaki countered with a harsh glower. "Am so sick of hearin' the same shit over an' over again. If ya would jus' suck it up an' grow a pair, an' actually _told_ Ichi how ya feel, then who knows? He might jus' return yer feelin's, an' ya could have a real shot at happiness. But _no_. Yer so chickenshit tha' he might _possibly_ reject ya tha' ya don' even fuckin' try!"

Grimmjow clenched his jaw and looked away, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "Ya make it sound so easy."

"Well it ain't like it's rocket science, Einstein," Shirosaki scoffed, stuffing his own hands into the absurdly tight back pockets of his leather pants. "An' bonus, if y'all got together then I wouldn't be left fuckin' dealin' with yer horny carcass tryin' ta bust down my door every other day. Win win." Turning on his heel, he made for the kitchen, pausing at the door to ask, "Beer?"

"Do I look like I'm in a beer mood to you? Gimme somethin' that burns, and lots of it."

"Well it's either tha' or fuckin' tap water, ya ungrateful cunt," Shirosaki frowned.

A look of absolute incredulity plastered itself all over Grimmjow's face. "The fuck? Where's all yer booze at?" Shirosaki without a liquor store worth of alcohol was practically unheard of.

"Don' lecture me, Jeagerjaques," Shirosaki sighed, running a hand through his ashen locks. "I ain't left the apartment in like, I dunno, three days straight now. I've been so hopped up on pills an' tabs I couldn't'a told ya mah own mother's name at gunpoint. A trip ta the store wasn't exactly a high priority."

Grimmjow could only roll his eyes at the drug induced antics of the younger male. "God damn, Shiro. Yer such a fuckin' waster."

"Don' gimme tha' bullshit," Shirosaki glared as he pushed away from the doorjamb and waltzed out of view. "Ya sound jus' like Ichi."

_Ichigo…_ Grimmjow wondered what the tempting sunshiny male was up to right now. Probably being fucked raw into the nearest available surface by that tattooed douchebag he called "sweetums".

Grimacing at the disturbing images roiling through his brain, Grimmjow clutched a hand to his chest, feeling the slow, agonising burn that always came with the notion of Ichigo wrapped up in another's arms. Shit, it hurt so damn bad…

Stalking into the kitchen like a man on a mission, Grimmjow found his Berry's older twin reaching up into a high cupboard, mumbling incoherently to himself as he rummaged around. Two bottles of chilled Corona sat perspiring on the table to his left, but Grimmjow couldn't have cared less about that right now if he tried.

Stepping up behind the unsuspecting other, Grimmjow wound his arms around that beautifully toned torso, pulling Shirosaki from his foraging as he settled his mouth close to a metal riddled ear.

"Forget the drink," he husked, biting down on an earring-free space near the tip. "I ain't so thirsty anymore."

"Mm. I can tell," Shirosaki replied breathily, grinding his hips back against a fairly prominent bulge. "Hungry are we, _Pantera_?"

With a low, throaty growl, Grimmjow whipped the alabaster youth around in his arms and dipped his head, capturing pale lips in a truly ravenous kiss. Shirosaki hummed at the almost desperate contact, throwing his arms around a corded neck and fisting handfuls of thick teal hair. Grunting when the small of his back collided painfully with the countertop, he obediently parted his lips when prompted, purring his approval when the older male's tongue made short, keen work of exploring his mouth.

Rubbing down over deliciously soft skin, Grimmjow let his hands wander to a firm, leather-clad backside, giving both globes a hearty squeeze and using the leverage to mould Shirosaki tighter against him. Capturing the small metal nub pierced through the younger's tongue between his teeth, Grimmjow groaned when the little minx hitched a leg over his hip and rubbed up against him like a needy kitten just begging for attention.

Not one to ever disappoint where he could help it, Grimmjow hoisted Shirosaki's other leg up around his waist, rolling his hips hard as he deposited the panting male on the kitchen counter.

"Ah, fuck," Shirosaki moaned, locking his ankles around the small of the blunette's back as the man took to ravishing his throat. "I cannae remember the last time we had kitchen sex. _Mmn_. So fuckin' hot."

Grimmjow smirked, drawing back from his treat to look up into heavily hooded orbs of molten gold. "Oh no? Well I _do_ remember, an' I got'a say I'm tryin' real hard not to blow my fuckin' load just thinkin' about it…" Gripping alabaster hips with bruising force, he caught the boy's lips in another searing kiss. "Ya don't happen to have any of that strawberry dessert stuff left, do ya?"

Shirosaki merely smirked.

* * *

><p><em>Brrr, brrr… <em>Brrr, brrr…<em>_

With a grouchy groan of disgruntlement, hazy ochre eyes blearily fluttered open at the loud noise suddenly cutting through the peaceful calm of the room. Damn it. He'd only been asleep for what felt like five minutes, and he really, _really_ didn't want to get up.

When the sound ceased, Ichigo sighed contentedly through his nose, cuddling closer to the wonderfully firm body emanating heat lying next to him. Smiling stupidly when wiry arms curled tight around his waist, he tangled his legs with Shūhei's and settled down comfortably to rest.

Shūhei's unexpected arrival tonight had certainly been a pleasant surprise, and something of a blessing in disguise. God knows what might have happened between him and Grimmjow had the raven haired male not interrupted when he did. Ichigo shuddered to think.

_'How could I let myself cave like that?'_ he berated himself. Sure he found Grimmjow attractive – who in their right mind wouldn't? – and they'd been best friends since they were, what, thirteen? They knew each other inside and out. The good, the bad and the ugly. But shit, that didn't justify pawing all over one another like fucking animals in season! They could have put a detrimental hitch in their friendship with an idiotic stunt like that, and Ichigo honestly didn't know what he'd do if Grimmjow ever left him. He wouldn't be able to take it. He'd rather have Grimmjow as a good, platonic friend than not at all.

In Ichigo's own humble opinion, exploring other avenues with the blunette just wasn't worth the risk.

Okay, so he'd be lying if he said he wasn't morbidly curious as to what might have happened had Shūhei not arrived back until tomorrow as scheduled – as it was, he couldn't stop replaying the scene by the front door over and over again like some kind of broken record. What would it be like to kiss Grimmjow? Ichigo had always imagined him to be a rough kisser, the kind that left you bleeding and breathless and begging for more. Would it have stopped there? After the first taste would the blue haired Adonis demand more? Would Ichigo have given it, given _himself_, over willingly?

Urgh. _Bad train of thought, Ichigo…_

Giving himself a good mental shakedown, Ichigo pressed himself closer to his lover's warmth, breathing in the natural aroma of naked flesh and sex. After numerous rounds of ardent lovemaking, wherein he'd come so many times he'd lost count, the peachy skinned youth was so dog-tired he could easily sleep for a entire week.

_Brrr, brrr… _Brrr, brrr…__

Before the alluring tendrils of slumber could successfully drag him back under however, the same irritating noise sounded out again, keeping Ichigo suspended in an annoyingly drowsy limbo.

Pinpointing the sound as Shūhei's mobile vibrating on the pinewood bedside table, Ichigo gave his lover a shake, gently trying to stir him awake. "Shū? C'mon Shū, wake up. Your phone's ringing."

Shūhei twitched a tad, but otherwise remained completely dead to the world. Ichigo could only roll his eyes, his lover being one of the heaviest sleepers he'd ever met in his life, Grimmjow included – and that man could sleep through a fucking earthquake! Ichigo would know, he'd seen it happen.

Quietly disentangling himself from the KO'd raven, Ichigo tentatively sat up, his lower back screaming out in protest, before carefully reaching over Shūhei's body to grab the infernal contraption.

Blinking furiously against the harsh light of the screen, Ichigo saw that all the fuss was over two received messages. Biting his lip as he pondered on what to do, he decided to have a quick skim of the texts, just in case it was something important. After all, it was already well past midnight; surely it was urgent enough if it couldn't possibly wait until morning – right?

Right.

With a curt nod at his own inner reasoning, Ichigo hit 'OK' and opened up the first message.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whoa, check me out - I'm not dead! Go figure.**

**I realise I've been 'off the scene' fer quite some time, inexcusably so. A few of yah out there are privy as to why, whereas most of yah will not be. Don' worry; I'm not gonna bore y'all with details as ta where I've been this past while - I don' exactly believe in burdenin' others with ones own problems, especially not all you wonderful readers who don' even know me. All I can do at this point is apologise profusely. It wasn't my intention to abandon you, I do so hate to let anyone down. Such a horrid feeling it is.**

**Heh. It's funny how connected you can feel to people yah haven't ever met before - but there yah have it. I'm so sorry everyone.**

**On the bright side'a things, one of the less soul destroying distractions I've had as of late is a collaboration piece with our good friend, an' fantabulously talented authoress; _caribouandcake_. We've made a joint account fer anyone interested, called; _toribelle615_. I've been workin' rather studiously toward our combined goals, an' hopefully our first fic _Errare Humanum Est_ will be up soon enough~ Fingers crossed, ne Belle?**

**Okay, back to business. This little storyette will be a TwoShot. I can say this with a fair amount of certainty given I've nearly completed Part Two already. I wrote this up fairly quick jus' ta let you guys know tha' I still care, tha' am still a diehard GrimmIchi fan an', hopefully, ta appease yah all fer such a long wait.**

**Please do enjoy if yah wish, mah sweets~ Know tha' I love you all for yer patience.**

**Ciao**

**Toringtino~**

**P.S. Mah delicious Apple an' minxy Isty - I have not fergotten about yahs! I love you guys muchly, please wait fer me~!**


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: Do I _have_ ta say it? Really? Not even if I-**

**Yes. Right, okay... ****I own Bleach and all of its wonderfully sexy characters~**

**Psyche! I actually don't own (minus plot) a chuffing thing. For serial.**

**Oh, God. Please don't sue.**

**Away, Silver~!**

* * *

><p><strong><em>.:Beautiful Lie:.<em>**

_~Part Two~_

"Oi, Shiro. Lemme bum a smoke… And by that I mean a cigarette, ya big dope-fiend."

Shirosaki yawned, rolling over on the mattress to present the other with his naked back. "Piss off. Smoke yer own."

"Don't have any left," Grimmjow replied from his position resting against the headboard. "Smoked the last of them last night after Ichigo got out'a the shower an' his towel slipped."

Shirosaki gave a humourless chuckle at that. "Fuckin' pervert… I got a pack on the nightstand there, ya moocher."

Grinning, Grimmjow stretched across the sated alabaster body beside him, procuring a ten deck of Marlboro Red and small purple lighter from the aforementioned location. Opening the pack, he expertly gripped a single stick between his teeth and lit up, tossing both items on the bedside table closest to him. Taking a long drag, he exhaled the bluish-gray cloud in a satisfied breath.

"Aah, fuck yeah," he rumbled, his heavy lids sliding closed. "That really hits the spot. Nothing quite like a post-fuck smoke, ne Snowbell?"

"Hmm," was the drowsy, noncommittal hum he got in return.

A gratifying smirk snaked its way across Grimmjow's lips, his cerulean gaze settling on the milky skin of his bedmate, the soft, glowing rays of the moon filtering in from the open window pooling over the flesh making it practically iridescent. He may not be Ichigo, but Shirosaki had been right when he claimed to be the "next best thing". Apart from the glaringly obvious, he looked just like the Berry. With that much help, it wasn't too taxing to picture orange and peach in place of alabaster and silver.

Ahh, thank the gods for twins.

Taking another greedy draw of the glowing cigarette, Grimmjow chewed pensively on the butt. "Yo, Shi?"

Shirosaki gave an aggravated sigh. "Whaddaya want, Jeagerjaques?"

"D'ya think Ichigo an' that shithead are done fuckin' yet?"

"_Uuuugh_, not this again," Shirosaki groaned exasperatedly, burying his face into his pillow.

Grimmjow shoved his shoulder. "C'mon, I'm serious. I wanna go home, but not if I have to listen to Berry mewlin' like a bitch."

"How the fuck would I know?" Shirosaki almost whined, propping himself up on his elbows to aim a withering glare at the pissy blunette. "Am 'is fuckin' _brother_, numbnuts, not 'is bloody wet nurse!"

"Keh," Grimmjow huffed, returning the steely glower. "Can't ya use that weird telepathy thingie all twins are supposed to have?"

"Fuck me sideways… We only told ya tha' freshman year ta mess with yer head, ya dumbass! There's no such thing!"

"God yer useless," Grimmjow sneered, tearing his gaze away from those eerie golden eyes.

"Guilty as charged," Shirosaki hummed, letting the insult slide right off his back. The older male could get exceedingly puerile and crabby where the subject of his younger brother was concerned. He'd learned a long, _long_ time ago to just nod along and agree with everything hurled his way. It was much less aggressive that way.

"I should go shower," Grimmjow stated, scratching idly at his stubbled jaw. "Don't wanna go home reekin' of sex an' eau de _you_." Pausing in mid-thought, a wicked grin settled across his lips as an idea suddenly struck him. "_Or_, better still, maybe I shouldn't bother. Maybe I should just walk in an' declare that I don't give a rat's ass about who he wants to screw, that he can do whatever and whoever the hell he likes 'cause I've been fuckin' yer tight ass all night long."

"Not a good idea, Grimm," Shirosaki was very quick abolish, sitting up to face the blunette. "Ya do realise tha' King would flip his fuckin' shit if he ever discovered the real reason ya come here, right?"

"Yeah, so what?" Grimmjow scoffed. "I don't give a flyin' fuck."

"Well I do! I dunno about you, but I like mah testicles where they are thank ya very much." Plucking the rapidly depleting cigarette from the elder, he took a deep drag before adding, "If ya wanna go on a suicide mission, then by all means, be mah guest. Jus' don' go draggin' me down with yer retarded ass."

Grimmjow grinned wide enough to show a sliver of strong, white teeth. "Yer such a pussy, Shi."

Gold on obsidian narrowed. "Ya'll be sayin' tha' on the other side'a yer face if Ichi ever finds out."

"We'll see about that."

Snatching the cancer stick back, Grimmjow stubbed it out on the nightstand before fisting silvery tresses, angling Shirosaki's head back for optimum access to pale lips which he promptly eclipsed with his own. Shirosaki hissed at the rough treatment, but otherwise allowed it, indulging in the fiery kiss with relish.

When Grimmjow eventually released his prey, he was satisfied to note those exotic eyes falling to half-mast and glittering with lust. Smirking, he sucked the younger male's bottom lip into his mouth, giving it a playful nip that had Shirosaki growling with approval.

"C'mon, Belle," Grimmjow purred when they surfaced for air, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Let's go take an ironic shower."

"How many times have I told ya not ta call me tha'?" Shirosaki groused, permitting himself to be hauled from the comfort of his bed by the eager blunette.

Grimmjow barked out a laugh at the piqued tone of the other, giving a small shrug to show his indifference as he directed their naked forms toward the bathroom. "About as many times as Ichigo's griped at me not to call him 'Berry' I'd guess. Not that I'll ever stop with either."

"Bastard," Shirosaki snapped, shouldering past the older man to take the lead. "Jus' fer tha', I'm kickin' yer ass out. Afterwards, a'course," he was quick to add.

Grimmjow chuckled. "Of course."

* * *

><p>Ichigo honestly could not recall a time, not in the <em>entirety<em> of his life, when he felt more angry than he did right now. Having opened the first message on Shūhei's mobile, he was immediately faced with _this_;

'_Shuuuuu baby~! How could u leave early and not even tell me :( U naughty boy~'_

He felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes wide and disbelieving as an icy cold feeling of dread flooded throughout his veins. He forced himself to read on, hoping, _praying_, that it wasn't what it seemed.

In hindsight, he should have known better than to assume that life could ever be that kind – especially to him.

'_I can't stop thinking about our time 2gether. All those nights spent locked away in our room with nothing but our sweaty, naked bodies 4company.. Mmm, the images are making me wet as we speak ;) I'm sending u a little something that should keep u going until we meet again~ Miss u already babe! Giku xxx'_

Ichigo felt physically sick, his grip constricting on the small device in his hand so hard he was seriously surprised it hadn't shattered into a million pieces already. Who the fuck was this 'Giku' slut? Better yet, why was she texting such vulgarity to _his_ boyfriend?

Body positively thrumming with white-hot fury, Ichigo could do nothing but stare at the bright screen, his dinner threatening to make a comeback at any second as his breath escaped in harsh bursts through his flaring nostrils. He knows he shouldn't look, that it was only going to make matters so much worse than they currently were, but damn if his morbid, illogical sense of curiosity wasn't slamming into him with the catastrophic might of a runaway freight train.

He couldn't help himself. He _had_ to see it.

Mouth dry and fingers trembling, he opened the picture message.

Hardly surprising, and yet still enough of a shock to force the air from his lungs, Ichigo felt tears of earth-shattering betrayal pricking hotly in the corners of his eyes at the image in front of him. There, sitting up on her knees in the middle of a bed, was a very voluptuous, very _naked_ young woman. With long, wavy strawberry blonde hair and sultry blue eyes, she was blowing a kiss toward the camera, her pouty lips shimmering with pink gloss. A dainty pair of black French panties was the only item of clothing shielding her dignity, leaving ridiculously huge breasts and miles of creamy skin bare for the eyes to feast upon.

The icing on the fucking cake was the little message tacked on at the bottom; _'Use at will~ ;)'_

Rage reaching dizzying new heights and swiftly boiling over, Ichigo clutched the phone securely within his palm, drew his arm back as far as it would go, and, without a second thought, pitched it forward with startling strength. The mobile soared soundlessly through the air, hurtling toward the far wall before making contact and promptly exploding into several pieces.

Nowhere near satisfied, Ichigo then directed his all-consuming wrath toward the completely ignorant and blissfully unawares Shūhei. Wrenching the duvet back and off of the raven haired elder, Ichigo delivered a devastating kick to the cheating bastard's midriff, knocking him right off the bed in one go.

Landing in an undignified, bare-assed heap on the cold floor, Shūhei let out a hiss of pain, gingerly sitting up to scowl at the vibrant haired youth currently glaring the fury of Hell at him.

"The heck, Ichi?" he griped, clutching his side in a pathetic attempt to ease the ache of what could very well be a fractured rib. Fucking kid could kick like a mule. "What was that for?"

"Don't call me that!" Ichigo snapped, his eyes blazing a furious honey-gold. "You have no right to call me that, you two-faced sonuvabitch!"

"Whoa, there! Let's back it up a bit. What the fuck's gotten into you?" Shūhei frowned as he made to get up, wincing when his ribs violently protested the action. "Shit. I think ya've done some real damage there."

"I wouldn't start complaining just yet," Ichigo stated in the kind of calm and collected tone that let Shūhei know he'd entered the eye of the storm. "'Cause I'm only warming up…"

Oh yeah. He was _definitely_ in deep shit.

* * *

><p>Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Grimmjow tucked his exposed and reddening hands under his armpits. The night was unbearably cold, his every breath visible in little white clouds as he made his way home. Thank Christ Shirosaki only lived a block down the road from their own apartment, otherwise he'd have marched straight back in and outright demanded to stay until morning.<p>

He tried his best not to think, feeling much too tired for such a taxing process, but alas the fates were conspiring against him – a favourite pastime of theirs, apparently – and he found thoughts warring through his head a mile a fucking minute.

Rather unsurprisingly, about ninety percent of said thoughts revolved around a certain orange haired temptress, and it was driving Grimmjow to absolute distraction. He wanted nothing more than to storm into their shared space, to sit the boy down and tell him every sordid little detail of his midnight trysts with a certain alabaster sibling of his. He wanted to let Ichigo know that he didn't spend every waking second of the day thinking about him, that he had his own life to live and people to screw. But, more than that, he wanted to see the peachy-skinned male upset. He wanted to see those beautiful fucking eyes simmering with anger and betrayal and hurt…

…because at least that way he would know he cared.

Did he really have it in him, though? Could he honestly tell the damn brat something he knew was only going to pain him in some way? Was he man enough to look Ichigo in the eye and risk throwing away everything they had ever built together?

Rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose, Grimmjow dully realised that he was now standing right outside their door. Resting his forehead against the painted wood, he sighed noisily, keys in hand and poised to go in. He really ought to sleep on this, or at the very least _think_ about it more thoroughly. After all, he was gambling their very friendship with a stunt like this.

God _damn_ it was hard to think straight with all that racket, though.

…

Wait. _Racket?_

Frowning, Grimmjow straightened himself up. How in the hell had he not noticed that until now? The sound of yelling, arguing and general distress could be heard quite clearly, the animated bickering filtering out into the calm of the hallway – and it was coming from _his_ apartment.

Only just resisting the urge to put the door in with his foot, Grimmjow quickly unlocked the door and barged inside, armed and ready with his own two fists should he need to protect his Berry. Had some punk-ass thief tried their luck whilst he was out of the house, perhaps thinking Ichigo an easy target on his own? But then, where the hell was Shūhei? Fuck, if he let anything happen to Ichigo he'd–

"Argh, Jesus!" Grimmjow cursed, quick reflexes the only thing saving him from a nasty clout on the side of the head with a…was that a fucking _stapler_?

Turning wide cerulean toward the source of the unexpected projectile, Grimmjow could only raise an inquisitive brow at the sight of an evidently outraged Ichigo, the young male standing in nothing but olive green boxer briefs and already equipped with further ammunition in the form of a paperback novel. Well, he wanted Ichigo with passion in his eyes and emotion painted all over his face – and by god, did he ever get it!

Grimmjow, putting both hands up in a placating manner, tried the tentative approach. "Okay, Kurosaki… I think ya need to chill the fuck out before someone–"

But it was clear that Ichigo wasn't paying even he slightest bit of attention when he suddenly hurled the book toward him, Grimmjow only just managing to duck out of the way before impact.

"You lying fuck!" Ichigo snarled, his tone livid. "Get the fuck out before I beat ya black and blue!"

_I'm sorry, a lying what now?_ Grimmjow could only furrow his brows in utter confusion. What in the name of holy good hell was he supposed to have done exactly? Something was definitely amiss here…

"Babe, if ya'd just gimme a second to explain!"

Grimmjow whipped his head round at the unexpected voice, scowl etching deeper into his features when he caught sight of Shūhei cowering behind their couch in a pair of black sleep pants. Ah, okay. He got it now. Ichigo hadn't been talking to him at all, and wasn't trying to take him out with his makeshift missiles – he hadn't even been _aiming_ at him. Shūhei was the true target; he'd just gone and accidentally stumbled into the middle of the fucking war zone.

"No! No more excuses!" Ichigo snapped. "I don't wanna hear any more of your lies!"

Ichigo was trembling, Grimmjow noticed, that taut body quivering with a fury so potent and raw he could swear he could taste it. That wasn't what concerned him, however. Not in the slightest. It was the torrents of heartache Ichigo was obviously trying to mask with his hysterical anger that really bothered him. Grimmjow knew the boy was trying his damnedest to hide it, but he could see straight through the shoddy disguise, could see the cracks forming and the anguish dulling those breathtaking orbs. It was enough to make him sick with fury.

No one hurt Ichigo.

_No one._

"The fuck is goin' on here?" Grimmjow demanded, darkening pools of cerulean pinpointed solely on Shūhei.

Stormy gray eyes flickered toward him, albeit briefly. "Butt out, Grimmjow. This is none of your concern."

"None'a my concern?" he growled, eyes constricting to slits and teeth flashing. "Yer in _my_ home, hassling _my_ roommate – ya'd better believe it's _my_ fuckin' concern."

"He may be _your_ roommate, but he's _my_ boyfriend," Shūhei bit back, his attention now fully focused on the blunette. "Keep your nose out of my fucking business, Jeagerjaques. Or else…"

Well, that was certainly one sure-fire way of getting Grimmjow's back up.

"Oho, what's this?" he quipped, a truly bloodthirsty grin snaking across the width of his mouth as he took a challenging step forward. "Little Prince Charming wants to play with the big boys, ey? Well, c'mon then! Come an' have a go if ya think yer man enough!"

Easily rising to the bait, Shūhei matched the step, his hands balling into tight fists. "Listen asshole, I–"

"No _you_ listen, ya mouthy piece'a shit–"

"That's enough!"

Grimmjow and Shūhei both snapped their mouths shut at the fierce outburst, orbs of crystalline blue and steely grey begrudgingly pulling away from one another to face that of stunning ochre. Ichigo was burning out, the drain on his emotions over the past hour or so leaving him weary and exhausted. He just wanted it all to be over.

Turning to his blue haired friend, Ichigo gave a wan smile, though the sentiment was unnervingly absent from his eyes. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Grimm, but I don't need your help. I can fight my own battles. And you," he spat, turning his focus to the raven haired male, "I believe I told you to leave. Now pack up your stuff and go, before I change my mind and let Grimmjow here off his leash."

Cracking his knuckles threateningly, Grimmjow gave a savage grin, silently promising a whole fucking cosmos of pain if he didn't comply. Setting his jaw, Shūhei averted his gaze from either one of them and humbly stalked out of the room, pausing only briefly by his heartbroken lover before a sharp warning growl from Grimmjow swiftly had him rethinking any move he might have made.

Left in the awkward aftermath, Grimmjow chanced a glance at Ichigo, only to find the boy staring listlessly off into the dead of space and gnawing his bottom lip raw. Compelled by something he couldn't hope to name, Grimmjow covered the distance between them in three large strides and promptly wrapped the trembling Ichigo in his arms.

Ichigo didn't move a single muscle at first, his entire system on mental shutdown from emotional overload, but the familiar, welcoming musk of the blunette soon permeated all the sorrow and grief and pain, flooding his whole body with such wonderful comfort and protection he couldn't help but physically cling onto it, onto _him_.

When slender fingers fisted the back of his thermal in a desperate clutch, Grimmjow breathed a soft sigh of relief, believing for a second there that Ichigo had slipped into the recesses of despair. Tucking those radiant orange spikes beneath his chin, he wrapped his arms tightly around narrow shoulders, allowing Ichigo to take as much solace as he could physically stomach from the consoling embrace.

Discreetly scanning the chaos that was their once fairly tidy living room, Grimmjow scrunched up his nose in a fine mixture of concern and contempt. With shards of glass and china littering the floor – undoubtedly the figurines that had once resided on the bookshelves – various different items strewn about haphazardly, and even the coffee table askew as if thrown out of the way, it looked like World War fucking Three had kicked off within their home. Ichigo had certainly gone all out. He was surprised, and admittedly somewhat disappointed, that Shūhei remained relatively unscathed.

"What happened, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asked, his voice as gentle as he'd ever heard it.

Ichigo winced, the emotional turmoil still coursing like acid through his veins. He couldn't hold it in much longer; it hurt so fucking much. "I-I…Shūhei, he… Oh god, Grimm, he…"

"Ah, shit," Grimmjow cursed under his breath when he felt the younger trembling in his arms, the flood gates obviously wearing precariously thin. Quietly shushing the boy, he folded him tighter against his body, cocooning his vulnerable Strawberry protectively. "C'mon, kid. Don't start pussyin' out on me." Cupping Ichigo's face in his hands, he felt his heart clench miserably when faced with beautiful ochre eyes bleary with unshed tears. "You're stronger than this, Kurosaki. I know you are."

"Eight months…" Ichigo choked, his face twisted in anguish as he grasped feebly at Grimmjow's wrists. "Eight fucking months, _wasted_. And for what? A cheap thrill with some two-bit, busty tramp." Blinking in defeat, he felt hot tears of humiliation roll freely down his cheeks. He desperately wanted to hang his head in shame, if only to escape the penetrative cerulean gaze currently piercing to the core of his soul, but strong hands prevented him from doing so. "Did I really mean so little to him? I…I honestly thought he cared…believed him when he told me he loved me. I'm such an idiot."

Gently wiping the tears from beneath his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, Grimmjow felt the unbearable vice around his heart constrict that little bit further. How could anyone find it within themselves to crush such a spirited being? How could anyone forsake something so perfect in its own rights? It was unfathomable, twisted. Downright _despicable_.

"Yer not an idiot," Grimmjow stated with the utmost authority, the absolute sincerity glossing his eyes making it impossible to deny his claim. "Ya put yourself out there, an' yeah, ya got taken for a ride, but that doesn't mean that yer to blame. Ya exposed yer heart, an' that bastard took advantage of it. If anythin', _he's_ the idiot, not you."

Pressing a chaste kiss to Ichigo's forehead, Grimmjow crushed him into another fierce embrace, both arms locked tight about slender shoulders as one hand tangled softly in luminous orange spikes. Ichigo gladly accepted the gesture, his face buried deep in Grimmjow's muscular chest as his arms wound around his back, his hands balling firmly in the material covering his shoulder blades.

"I'm so sorry, Grimm," Ichigo mumbled into the folds of the grey thermal, his fingers gripping that little bit tighter. "I never meant to drag you into any of this…"

Grimmjow furrowed his brows. "Ya don't need to apologise, not to me. It's not like any'a this is yer fault." Permitting himself a greedy inhale of the younger's glorious scent whilst he had the chance, he let a warm smile curl his lips before adding, "Even if it ever _was_ yer fault, ya know I'd still be battin' for yer side. I've always got yer back, Ichigo."

Ichigo blinked, drawing back just enough to peer up at the elder. "You called me Ichigo," he stated, the winning smile gracing his lips stealing Grimmjow's breath away.

Making a show of rolling his eyes, Grimmjow forced Ichigo's head back against his chest. "Yeah, well…don't get used to it. Brat."

Chuckling softly, Ichigo could only shake his head, his fingers slackening in the blunette's shirt so that he wasn't so much clutching as he was simply returning the comforting gesture. Trust Grimmjow to go ahead and insult him, and yet still manage to make him feel so safe. He truly was amazing.

"Well, well… Isn't this cosy?"

Grimmjow growled at the intrusion of the tender moment, slanting his eyes towards the source of the nuisance to find Shūhei, now fully dressed and with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, leaning casually against the corner of the wall. Ichigo tried to step away from Grimmjow, but with the blunette's thickly corded arms refusing to let him go, he could only awkwardly twist his body to at least face his now _ex_-boyfriend.

Chuckling darkly, Shūhei pushed himself off of the wall. "Couldn't even wait five fucking seconds before swooping in, ne Jeagerjaques?"

"Are you still here?" Grimmjow retorted icily, his lip curling in distaste.

"I wouldn't go gettin' too attached there, Ichigo," Shūhei continued like he hadn't heard him, those dark grey orbs swirling with malicious intent.

Cerulean pools narrowed. Just what in the hell was the conniving little prick up to now?

"Look, I have no idea what game you're playing," Ichigo said sternly, eyeing the raven haired male suspiciously, "but you can just save it. I have no interest in what you have to say."

"You heard 'im," Grimmjow smirked, jutting his chin toward the door. "Go on. Get lost."

"Really?" Shūhei asked of Ichigo in feigned curiosity, again blatantly ignoring the blue haired male. "Not even if I was tell you that, from what I hear, our dear Grimmjow here isn't exactly a free agent?"

Grimmjow felt his heart plummet somewhere into the depths of his gut, his body going ramrod stiff. _No fucking way_. The fucker _had_ to be bluffing – there was just no way he could know…

Ichigo frowned in confusion when he felt the blunette tensing around him, his keen sense of perception alerting him to the fact that something was off – _very_ off if the way in which Grimmjow was acting was any indication.

Interest now well and truly piqued, Ichigo turned his attention to the cruelly smirking Shūhei. "Is there a point to any of this? Because frankly, I think you've wasted quite enough of my time already…"

"That all depends, I guess," Shūhei replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

"On what?" Ichigo asked, unable to help himself from falling for the lure.

"I've had enough of this run-around bullshit," Grimmjow hastily interceded, clasping a large hand on Ichigo's shoulder. "I think it's high time ya threw the fucker to the curb…"

Shūhei could practically taste the blunette's budding fear and desperation, the combination mixing together for quite the bittersweet flavour against his palate. Oh yes, this would be quite the devastating blow.

"It all depends," Shūhei began, positively savouring the moment, "on whether or not ya think the fact that Grimmjow here has been fucking your _brother_ is of any importance."

Ichigo baulked at the words, his ochre orbs growing wide in disbelief. "Wh-What?"

Grimmjow, on the other hand, snarled viciously at the spiteful raven headed bastard. "Ya jammy lil' dickweed," he glared. "How the fuck do ya even know that?"

"You mean it's _true_?" Ichigo gaped, whirling round to face the blunette with eyes brimming in hurt.

Grimmjow hemmed at the look of utter betrayal, his throat suddenly parched. "I-Ichigo, listen to me, I–"

"That's right, Jeagerjaques," Shūhei simpered heinously. "Try an' dig your way out'a _that_ one."

Jaw clenching alongside his fists, Grimmjow rumbled low in his chest, snapping his attention to the scheming bastard. "Ya know what? This no longer concerns you. It's time to take out the trash."

Fisting a large, callused hand in the collar of Shūhei's shirt, Grimmjow forcibly hauled the shit-stirring scumbag outside, Shūhei spitting curses at him and fumbling over his own two feet as he was 'escorted' from the apartment. The door had barely slammed closed behind them before the tattooed male found himself shoved up against the wall, the breath knocked violently from his lungs and a snarling blunette baring absurdly pointed canines mere inches from his face.

"Ya noxious little punk," Grimmjow seethed, his knuckles digging harshly against Shūhei's sternum. "Ya just couldn't leave well enough alone, could ya? Ya know _you_ can't have Ichigo, so, what? Ya wanna make sure no one else can either? Is that it? Ya miserable fuck, ya make me sick."

"Get a fucking grip!" Shūhei growled in return, his hand grasping tight at Grimmjow's wrist when he realised he couldn't physically remove the man's hand from his shirt. "Don't act like this isn't what ya've always wanted!"

"What're ya harpin' on about this time?"

"Oh _please_," Shūhei snorted. "It's not like it isn't pathetically obvious that you're in love with Ichigo! And now, with me out of the picture and Ichigo a broken mess, what better time than for you to come striding in to save the day like some sort of knight in shining armour!"

Shūhei barely had time enough to blink before a sizeable, tanned fist socked him square between the eyes. Unprepared for the brutal attack, the raven haired male reeled back, losing his balance and falling flat on his ass, his legs sprawled out as he clutched his bleeding and, in all probability, broken nose.

"Ya ever call Ichigo a 'broken mess' again, an' I'll do much worse than a black fucking eye," Grimmjow snarled down at the pitiful lump of human by his feet, his chest heaving and cerulean eyes alight with hatred. "If I ever see yer slimy carcass sniffin' around Ichigo, I'll make sure ya live to regret it, ya hear me? Now get the fuck out'a my sight before I _really_ let ya have it."

Gingerly picking himself up off of the carpeted floor, Shūhei wiped the back of his hand under his nose, his lip curling at the sight of his own blood staining his skin and those stormy eyes constricting to slits. "This ain't over, Jeagerjaques."

Grimmjow snorted, throwing his arms out by his sides. "Any time, dipshit. Ya know where to find me."

Gritting his teeth, Shūhei straightened out his shirt and scooped up his duffle bag, aiming one last scathing glare in the blunette's direction before stalking off. Grimmjow watched him leave, fingers trembling and blood rich in adrenaline as the lust for battle saturated his every cell. It was only after the tattooed fucker rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, disappearing from sight, that the invigorating rush began to dissipate, allowing Grimmjow a deep, cleansing breath through flared nostrils.

With a weary sigh, he collapsed back against the wall by his apartment door. Scrubbing both hands over his face, he reached into his pocket, fishing out his mobile as he slowly slid to the floor. Before his backside had even made contact with the carpet, he already had the cellular device flipped open and held against his ear, the monotonic dial tone on its second sequence by the time he made it to the ground.

For a stagnant moment Grimmjow thought the other line would never pick up, but luckily he knew if he just kept at it, then eventually the person he was trying to reach would get pissed and would–

"Oh fer the love of– If this isn't important, am hangin' up right this fuckin' second…"

There we go. Mission accomplished.

"Gosh, it's so nice to hear from ya too, sweetheart," Grimmjow droned, tracking a hand irritably through his hair. "Listen; we've got a problem."

"When do ya ever _not_ have a problem, Grimmjaw?" Shirosaki gave a dramatic sigh. "Well go on then, what is it? I've got a packed bong with my name on it, an' mah bed is callin' out ta me like a top-dollar whore, so this'd better be worth my while…"

Clicking his tongue, Grimmjow mentioned the one word that was guaranteed to capture the alabaster male's full and undivided attention. "It's Ichigo."

"King? What about 'im? What's wrong? Did somethin' happen?"

See? Worked like a charm every damn time.

Gathering his mental wits about him in preparation for what he was about to unleash, Grimmjow sucked on his teeth. "He, uh… He found out, Shi."

"Ey? 'Found out'? What the hell're ya–" A pregnant pause, and then; "Jesus titty fuckin' Christ! Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me? Ya mean ya actually _told_ 'im about us? God damn it, Grimmjaw! I thought ya were fuckin' _jokin'_! This is… I mean… Ack, _shit_!"

"Calm the fuck down, Snowdrop," Grimmjow snapped, bringing the mobile back to his ear after having removed it during Shirosaki's colourful tirade. "I didn't tell him jack shit, alright? It was that fucking asswipe Shūhei… He an' Ichigo had a fight, an' the fucktard told him about us before I could toss him out."

"Sixty-niner?" Shirosaki echoed, his tone heavy with bewilderment. "How the hell does he know? An' whaddaya mean 'fight'? What the fuck did'e do ta King?"

"Fuck if I know how he found out," Grimmjow replied evenly, his blood heating up at the mere thought of the playboy douchebag. "But that's hardly important at this point. An' I mean 'fight' as in it looks like a nuclear bomb just detonated in the middle of my fuckin' living room! Ichigo's okay…uh, I think. That's why I'm callin', actually – ya need to get yer ass over here, like pronto."

Shirosaki promptly burst out laughing, causing Grimmjow to shy away from the loud, echoic sound. "Ya cannae be serious…!"

"Like a heart attack," Grimmjow growled, glaring at the wall across from him.

"If ya think am comin' over there after what ya jus' told me, yer more stupid than I ever gave ya credit fer, Jeagerjaques. King'll maim me on fucking sight! In fact, am surprised tha' yer still breathin'! Unless… Ah, fuck. Yer not callin' me from the hospital, are ya? 'Cause if ya are, am packin' mah shit up an' movin' ta Mexico! _Dia de los Muertos_ is comin' up, so it could actually be pretty fun…"

"I've a better idea," Grimmjow interrupted, a slight frown creasing his brow. "How's about ya go an' pop a few valium, chill the fuck out for a second, an' then drag that waster ass a'yers over here so that you can do the right thing for once an' take care of yer baby brother!"

Shirosaki scoffed. "Heh, listen ta Mr. Chickenshit dishin' out advice on altruism. How rich…"

"Shut the fuck up an' get round here," Grimmjow ordered. "Ichigo needs ya, Shiro. I know he won't listen to me, not with the way he's feelin' right now, but he'll at least think twice about killing his own twin. He won't make it through this on his own, and, seein' as I can't help, it's gonna have to be you." He heard Shirosaki groan and grinned. He was breaking him down. "C'mon, Shi. He's hurtin' bad. He needs his family…" A pause for dramatic effect before the finisher; "…he needs his _nii-chan_."

"Yer playin' dirty, Grimm…"

Grimmjow smirked. "I know."

"It's not fair!" Shirosaki whined. Grimmjow could only imagine the defeated pout undoubtedly marring the other's features. "Mah face is way too pretty ta end up on some coroner's slab!"

"Are ya kiddin' me?" Grimmjow snorted. "With yer Snow White complexion, ya'll fit right in with all them corpses."

There was a long, idle minute of complete silence, wherein Grimmjow could practically hear the younger's defences crumbling to dust. Christ, he was so predictable sometimes.

"Ugh, fine!" Shirosaki barked at long last, startling Grimmjow to the point that he flinched. "Am on mah way… But! If Ichi castrates me, then am takin' yer boys as compensation. Provided ya have any left by the time I get there…"

Grimmjow gave a dry, humourless chuckle. "Deal."

* * *

><p>It was close approaching two in the morning when Shirosaki finally waltzed into Grimmjow and Ichigo's shared apartment. With the advantage of a spare key, he didn't have to bother waiting about for admittance, strolling in with dark features indicative of a dead man walking. He'd thrown on a black tank and a plum coloured shirt, of which all the buttons were open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His heavy combat boots – laces undone and covered in buckles – clumped loudly over the wooden floor with every reluctant, unenthusiastic step he took.<p>

"Hey, Wilma~!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I'm home~!"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and vacated his spot on the couch, meeting the alabaster male outside the kitchen. "Took ya long enough."

"Fuck you," Shirosaki spat with venom, shoving past the blunette. "I was busy writin' mah will an' flushin' mah stash down the toilet fer the inevitable murder investigation. You get nuthin', by the way," he added sarkily over his shoulder.

"Charming," Grimmjow drawled, following the younger back toward the living room.

Shirosaki felt his brows quirk up toward his hairline as his molten gaze swept over the general carnage of the place. "Wow, ya certainly weren't jokin'… Are ya absolutely sure our innuendo flauntin' friend survived? He didn't actually die an' ya tricked me round here ta help ya hack up the body in the bathtub, did'ja? 'Cause am'a haf'ta remove mah shirt if ya did. It's dry-clean only."

Grimmjow heaved a mordant sigh. "Stop messin' around an' do yer fuckin' job, yeah?"

"Who's messin' around? I was bein' perfectly serious…" Upon catching sight of the blunette's clearly unimpressed demeanour, Shirosaki grudgingly conceded, clacking his tongue and folding his arms. "Where is he?"

"Bedroom," Grimmjow answered, nodding toward the small hallway to the left. "He hasn't come our or said anythin' in the last, oh…" he checked his wrist, even knowing there was no watch there. "_Ever_."

"Aa. Tha's jus' peachy," Shirosaki muttered, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, almost as if preparing for a showdown. Glancing briefly at his blue haired companion, he took his first step toward his brother's room – and his possible demise. "Wish me luck."

"Fuck that!" Grimmjow quipped testily. "I'm hordin' all the luck I can to save my own skin, thanks very much."

Glittering gold on obsidian glared over at him. "I hate you."

Grimmjow chuckled, this time _with_ humour. "Love ya, too, Belle."

* * *

><p>Ignoring the mirthful laughter filtering down the hall behind him, Shirosaki hesitated briefly outside his twin's bedroom door, the dark, tangible aura leaking out from beyond almost suffocating, before he bit the bullet and gave the wooden surface a tentative knock.<p>

"Piss off!" was the hostile command from the other side. "Come in here Grimmjow, and I swear I _will_ hurt you!"

Shuddering at the biting tone so chockfull of grim promise, Shirosaki thickly swallowed back his rising doubts and decided – against the screaming protests of his inner voice of reason – to step into the room. Closing the door behind him with a soft click, the very first thing the alabaster twin was privy to within the pitch black confines of the room was something nice and solid to the gut.

"Ouff! God damn!" he yelped, rubbing his right hand over the afflicted area on his abdomen, whilst his left arm wrapped around his head and face. You know, just in case there was more where that came from.

"What the…" Ichigo reached across from his position on the bed to turn the lamp on the bedside table on. Ochre eyes squinted against the harsh illumination, before slowly adjusting and pinning the intruder with a baffled gaze. "Shiro? What're _you_ doing here?"

Blinking against the sudden light, Shirosaki glanced down by his feet, a snowy brow arching at the hardback copy of Anne Rice's _Sleeping Beauty_ lying by the toe of his left boot. Bending down to pick it up, he turned teasing gold toward his scowling younger brother, now dressed in red sweats and sitting cross-legged on the queen sized mattress, waving the novel as evidence.

"Shut up," Ichigo quickly defended, crossing peachy arms across his naked chest. "It's a guilty pleasure. And a classic."

"Ya read way too much, Aibou," Shirosaki commented, carelessly tossing the book aside.

"Oh?" Ichigo sniped, his brows knitting tighter together as Shirosaki took a seat on the edge of his bed. It took all his self-control not to kick his ass onto the floor. "And what have you read recently, hm? Y'know, apart from the TV guide and the backs of cereal boxes."

"Ouch," the elder replied sarcastically. "Hit me where it hurts why don't'cha?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Ichigo demanded, easily dismissing the taunt. He'd grown up with Shirosaki, shared a room with him for the first eighteen years of his life – he knew by now when he was being baited, and how to diffuse the situation before it escalated out of hand.

To this day, he didn't know whether to count it as a gift or a curse.

"Ain't it obvious, King?" Shirosaki answered. "Am here ta see ya – ta make sure yer okay after the whole fellatio-face break up thing…"

Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes in dismay. Shirosaki was always coming up with new and wonderful nicknames for Shūhei. Normally he would scold him for it, but honestly, and rather unsurprisingly, he couldn't really give a toss what he decided to call the deceitful, cheating bastard. Chances are, Ichigo had already called him it himself.

"Well, that's super sweet of you and all," Ichigo began, his face pinched into a dark glower. "But apart from that blue haired prick outside, you're literally the _last_ person on the face of the earth I wanna see right now. Except maybe Shū – but that's obviously a given."

Shirosaki rubbed guiltily at the back of his neck, his eyes cast to the floor. "Aye, I hear ya, Ichi. But jus' hear me out–"

"Why should I?" Ichigo cut in, his honeyed baritone dripping with condemnation. "As if I didn't have enough on my plate finding out that Shūhei's been whoring around for god knows how long behind my back – but then I find out that my _best friend_ and my own fucking _brother_ are, well…fucking! It's enough to make me fucking sick!"

"Calm down, Aibou…"

"No! I don't _want_ to calm down, Shiro! I wanna get mad!" Shirosaki could only wince as Ichigo did just that – and with relish, too. "I wanna shout and yell and curse and break things just for the fucking sake of it! I wanna sucker punch Shūhei into next fucking week for making me look like a fucking fool! I wanna break Grimmjow's nose for daring to lie to me! And _you_…" Shirosaki flinched at the pure venom with which he was mentioned, his golden orbs flicking up to lock with pools of ochre, his heart panging wretchedly at the unbridled anguish shimmering back at him. "I haven't even got the words, Shi… How could you do that to me? I'm your _brother_. We've always been there for each other, watching the other's back; protecting him. I never, _in a million fucking lifetimes_, would've expected to turn around to discover that it was _you_ stabbing me in the back, not when it was to you that I entrusted it in the first place…"

It was safe to say, after _that_ little speech, Shirosaki felt like scummiest, most deplorable brother in the entire fucking universe. His heart had stopped dead in his chest, his stomach churning with culpable disgrace, and his gaze firmly fixated off to the side. He couldn't look at those eyes anymore, not when all that burning censure and undiluted suffering was aimed solely at him.

Ichigo was right. How could he betray him like that? Had he no fucking shame? After that near confession, it was so blatantly evident that his peachy, vibrant haired twin had deep rooted feelings for Grimmjow, and he'd gone and stomped all over them like a complete and utter–

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the fucking phone…

Whipping his head up to face the younger, Shirosaki frowned. "Did ya hear what ya jus' said, King?"

Ichigo could have decked his twin. It certainly wasn't the apology he'd been expecting.

"Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?" he asked, confused as to where this was going.

"All right, lemme ask ya this instead…" Shirosaki said, a slow, devious smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "Why d'ya care?"

"Okay, now I _know_ you're trying to provoke me…"

"I get it, okay? Me an' Grimm went an' fucked behind yer…" he trailed off at the scathing glare the younger aimed at him, shifting uncomfortably. "Tha' is we, uh…we…never mind! It doesn't matter what we did or didn't do – the point is it was wrong. We shouldn't've kept it from ya, an' am sorry I broke yer trust in me like tha'. But what I wanna know is _why_. Why d'ya care what Grimmjaw an' I get up ta behind closed doors?"

Ichigo opened his mouth to retort, only to snap it shut again when he realised that he had nothing to say. Shirosaki's smirk snaked even wider, showcasing feral canines as he crawled up onto the bed to sit directly in front of his younger brother. Pools of shining gold ensnared shimmering ochre.

"What'sa matter, Aibou? Kitty got yer tongue?" Deciding to push his luck whilst he had the upper hand, Shirosaki pressed two fingers under Ichigo's chin and angled his head up, looking him dead in the eye. "Well, I know ya don' care who I screw around with – I mean, am jus' yer brother, right? So…tha' jus' leaves our resident blue haired wonder, ne? Could it be tha' ya care about who _he_ fucks around with because yer jealous it isn't _you_?"

Jerking his head out of his brother's gentle grasp, Ichigo felt heat pour into his cheeks as he stubbornly refused to make eye contact. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Aa, but I think ya do, mah pretty lil' _Ichi-pet_…" Shirosaki purred, giving a mental cackle at his twin's overly cute blush. "Why can't ya jus' admit it? It's practically written all over yer face… Heh. Ya like 'im, don't'cha?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" Ichigo sputtered indignantly. Perhaps a little _too_ indignantly. "Grimm's just a friend! I mean, we've known each other since the sixth grade – we're practically family, for fuck's sake!"

"No need ta get so defensive," Shirosaki taunted slyly with a knowing, lopsided grin.

"I'm not getting defensive!" Ichigo bit back, cursing himself six ways from Sunday for blushing even harder. "I'm merely stating that I have no romantic interest in Grimmjow whatsoever, that's all. Just stating a fact. Nothing more, nothing less. Nope! No romantic feelings here _at all_!"

Shirosaki watched with a certain degree of giddying pleasure as his twin hemmed and hawed, furiously fighting back a bout of raucous laughter. "Yo, King – ya want me ta fetch a shovel ta help ya dig tha' hole a lil' faster?"

Slapping both hands over his uncomfortably hot face, Ichigo collapsed back onto his pillows and groaned. "Shut the fuck up and get out. I don't want to talk to you anymore…"

"Pity," Shirosaki commented, his tone blasé. "'Cause I was jus' startin' ta have fun~"

Crawling in between the younger's spread thighs, Shirosaki contentedly stretched himself out along the hardened contours of his twin's body, much like a happy cat sprawling in the sun, his arms curling around a sinewy neck and his face burying into the crook of his shoulder. Taking a long inhale of Ichigo's natural aroma, Shirosaki felt a genuine smile curl his lips as lean arms wound around his shoulders and slender fingers threaded through his hair.

"I'm still mad at you," Ichigo mumbled, even as he began petting his fingers through his brother's slightly longer, silky locks.

"Mm. I know," Shirosaki replied, pressing a soft kiss to Ichigo's neck. "Don' think ya've wormed yer way out'a this, though. We're still gonna talk about it. An' then yer gonna tell me all about what tha' dickfaced asshole did ta ya – an' where ta find 'im so tha' he can pay up with his pound a'flesh."

Already drifting off with the familiar weight and scent of his beloved twin wrapped so snugly around him, just like when they were kids, Ichigo could only nod. "Sleep now, talk later."

"Agreed," Shirosaki concurred, a wide-jawed yawn escaping before he could stop it as he nestled down on his baby brother.

There was a short bout of silence, before Ichigo sleepily inquired; "Are you going to sleep fully clothed?"

Shirosaki chuckled, yet made no move to get up. "Why, ya wanna watch me strip? Yer so kinky, Aibou."

"You're such an incestuous pervert," Ichigo rebuked, though there was little heat behind the words. "At least kick your boots off. I won't have you dirtying my sheets."

Only just fending off the petulant urge to come back with a suggestive implication to those words, Shirosaki obediently toed off the cumbersome footwear, managing to get them off _and_ onto the floor with the absolute minimum of effort.

"Night, Ichi. Love yer face."

With a small, lingering smile, Ichigo hugged his twin close. "Love ya, too, Shi. Now shut up and sleep."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ...**

**Okay, all of yah out there who believed me when I said this would be finished in two parts raise yer hand... *keeps own hand down* Yeah, I didn't believe me either. Any of yah that did - shame on you! Y'all should know by now that I cannae rein in my plots. Neither can Animal Control. I asked... They refused.**

**Is anybody else loving Lady Gaga's _Americano_ song? I've had it on repeat fer like the last hour or so... I first heard it in _Puss in Boots_. God tha' movie was amazing! Go an' watch it if yah haven't already - for serial. Yah won't be disappointed. The music of _Rodrigo y Gabriela_ also crops up in it, an' I freaking love them. So, yeah. Pure, hysterical aces.**

**Anywho~!**

**I really hope tha' any and all a'yah tha' read Part Two enjoyed doin' so! I don't think anything really happened here, but at least we're all tha' little bit closer ta the awesomesauceness tha' is GrimmIchi action - so tha's a plus, ne? ^^ Writing Grimm-yums an' Shiro-sexface-saki as friends is criminally fun! Their dialect is surprisingly easy to think up, lol. They sure do like ta curse quite a lot, don't they? Naughty boys~**

**Oh, and before I bow out (not tha' I've ever done such a thing...) I just wanted ta say a massive an' heartfelt "Thank yah!" to all of you who welcomed me back last week. I was pleasantly surprised at the unexpected words of kindness. All a'you guys rock my fucking socks, honestly. Thanks so much (:**

**So, yosh! Please, do have fun reading an' enjoy yourselves if yah dare mah sweets~**

**Ciao fer now**

**Toringtino~**


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